


Bad for Me

by fvckingavengers



Series: Cry for Me [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvckingavengers/pseuds/fvckingavengers
Summary: It got smuttier and angstier, folks. Sequel to Cry for Me.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Cry for Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749895
Comments: 16
Kudos: 112





	Bad for Me

Weeks had gone by since that night in the hotel room.

Or was it a month?

The days all seemed to blur together. You did your best to keep busy, whether it be training, volunteering to go on long missions, offering to drive upstate to babysit Morgan for Pepper and Tony while they treat themselves to a long weekend in Malibu.

Each day your phone blew up with notifications. Text messages. E-mails. Phone calls.

They all went ignored.

Screened.

Ghosted.

The morning after the two of you slept together, you flew back to the compound in silence. Not a single sound uttered from either one of you. You, simply had nothing to say. You couldn’t say that you got what you initially wanted - but sex isn’t a bad consolation prize.

Meanwhile, Bucky was speechless. Questions running through his mind at a mile a minute. He felt timid around you more often than not since your mission together. Like he was a deer and you were the hunter, ready to blast his head off the second he said something to set you off.

You hadn’t spoken a word about what happened to anyone. You don’t trust Bucky any further than you can throw him, but you know him better than to believe that he’d flap his trap about the situation to anyone. No one was the wiser, and you planned to take the secret to your grave.

The afternoon sun warms your skin where you sit on Tony’s wrap around porch. The cabin is peaceful. Quiet, for the most part. The lake sparkles and glimmers beneath the sunlight.

You sit at a tiny play table, coloring with Morgan. The camera on your phone clicks and you smile at the photo before sending it to Tony. She’s a mess, her face covered in orange goo from the popsicle in her small hand. A stiff breeze rolls through every few minutes, and you’re thankful that you fixed her hair into a bun that rests on the top of her head.

“I like the way you used the syrup that melted on your paper as the body for the monster you drew. Was that an artistic decision or an accident?” You ask the five year old, rolling a chunk of your grape popsicle around the inside of your mouth.

Morgan tilts her head and looks at her work. “Both.” She replies confidently.

You emit a soft laugh and look over at your phone as it starts to ring, moving across the table from the vibrations. Bucky’s name shows up at the top of the screen, and although you deleted the old contact picture, along with all the others of him from the device, you still imagined the picture of you entangled around him in the pool, celebrating Steve’s birthday a couple years ago.

Snapping out of your trance, you use your knuckle to decline the incoming call and watching the screen fade to black.

Morgan is quiet for a moment, but she watched you like a hawk. “Momma does that when she doesn’t wanna talk to daddy. Or when she’s mad at him.” She states matter-of-factly, turning her attention back to her artwork. “Are you mad at someone, Auntie Lynx?”

You narrow your eyes and roll the small wooden stick back and forth between your teeth while coloring in Thor’s cape on the previous picture Morgan had drawn. “Do you call Peter “Uncle Spider-Man?” You know my real name, kiddo.”

Morgan shrugs and smiles. “I like your made up name. I’ve been learning more about cats.”

Her innocent explanation makes a grin stretch across your face. The question she had asked is forgotten when a car honks as it pulls into the mulched driveway. Morgan smiles excitedly and leaps up from her chair, running to Pepper and hugging her tight.

You meet them at the porch steps, leaning against the thick oak pillar. “Didn’t expect you guys back for a few more hours. How was the west coast?”

“Hot.” Pepper declares, widening her eyes for emphasis. “But the beach was wonderful. This trip was just what the doctor ordered.” She leans down to pick Morgan up and chuckles softly at the sight of her daughter. “You ma’am, are a mess. What do you say we go inside and clean you up?”

Morgan nods and waves you along with them. “I’ll help.” You follow Pepper inside the quaint cabin. She sets Morgan on the kitchen island while you wet a wash cloth. Pepper smiles in thanks when you hand it to her, gently wiping the popsicle residue off of Morgan’s cheeks.

“Do you still talk to Bucky?”

The question catches you off guard. It feels like the woman roundhouse kicked you in the gut with her words. You were left winded.

“What?” You ask softly, shaking your head and furrowing your brows.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Pepper assures. “It’s just- We ran into each other at the office before Tony and I left for the weekend. He asked me if I could ask you to give him a call.” She shrugs and looks at you apprehensively. “Honestly, I felt kind of bad for the guy. _Kind of_.” She reiterates. “He looked… hopeful.”

You don’t know how to respond. The heat left your body and your palms began to sweat. You force a small smile and nod, becoming desperate to escape the conversation.

“I’ll make sure he knows you relayed the message. I uh - I better be heading back to the compound.” You lean forward and place a soft kiss on Morgan’s head and giving Pepper a hug goodbye.

Tony’s outside, swaying back and forth on the porch swing. He wears a big, shit-eating grin and pats the space beside him, insisting you take a seat. “So, what’s the tea? Why is Barnes suddenly so interested in conversing with you?”

“Jesus,” You roll your eyes and plop down beside him. “Never use that phrase again.”

“No promises.” He states. “Seriously, though. Spill.”

“It’s none of your business.” You can’t fight the grin that spreads across your face. It’s amusing how nosey he is.

“Are you just saying that because you haven’t told Natasha yet?”

He knows you too well.

“There’s nothing to tell either of you.”

“Liar.”

He’s accusing. You’re guilty, but you hide it well. Well, well enough. You both sit there, staring at each other, narrowing your eyes, challenging one another.

Tony has little patience. He cracks first and you smile triumphantly when he raises his hands and concedes.

“Fine. Keep your secret.” He sighs and sulks in his seat. “You need help moving into your new place this week?”

“I would if I had a new place to move into.” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “The hunt goes on while I continue to crash on Nat’s couch.”

“Only you and Carrie Bradshaw are so picky as where to live in the city.”

“Did you just make a Sex and the City reference, therefore admitting that you’ve watched Sex and the City?”

“Every season and both movies. I’m such a Samantha.” Tony declares, remaining serious. He fishes in his pants pocket and pulls out a keyring, spinning it around his finger. “I think you’ll find this to your liking.”

He tosses the gold key to you and you look up at him in confusion. “You got me an apartment?”

“It’s an old place of mine. Rent controlled. In Chelsea. Only a couple blocks from Magnolia bakery.”

You’re dumbfounded. Mouth hanging open as you look between the key and Tony. “…What’s the catch?”

“There isn’t one. Not on my end, anyway. I will warn you that the others are gonna wanna crash there when some asshole wants to terrorize the city at one in the morning.”

“Tony, I don’t know what to say…”

“You could say ‘thank you’, for starters.” He chuckles, kicking your foot with his. “Just don’t go bragging to the team. Don’t need them thinking I have favorites.”

“Because they weren’t already thinking that when you made me the godmother of your child.” You deadpan.

“Fair point.” He shrugs.

~ ~

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice is calm but your words spew venom as you enter Bucky’s room. You came in unannounced. Didn’t even bother knocking.

He looks up at you from the couch, gape mouthed. “I’d rather not open up that door without some kind of mind numbing substance, so, should I get some wine?”

“Joking?” You scoff, folding your arms over your chest. “That’s really the route you wanna go down? Do you think I’m in the mood to joke right now?”

“I don’t know what kind of mood you’re in, you won’t fucking talk to me.” He defends.

“And going to Pepper, roping her into the situation is your solution to that?”

“It got you here, didn’t it? Besides, I didn’t rope her into anything.”

“You may not have done it intentionally but her and Tony are both suspicious that something is going on between us. First them, whose next? I thought we had an agreement not to discuss this with anyone.”

Bucky huffs, knitting his brows and narrowing his eyes. “I’m sorry, when did we make this agreement? Was it before we fucked? Because you haven’t said a word to me since then, so forgive me if I don’t recall said agreement.”

“My God, it’s an unspoken agreement, James. We’re broken up, I really thought it went without saying.” You sit on the other end of the couch, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands.

Bucky sighs softly, looking over at you. “Please stop calling me ‘James’. I hate it.”

“I refer to you as ‘shit-brick’ to everyone else. Would you rather I call you that?”

After a second, he shakes his head and rises to his feet. “‘James’ is fine.” He grabs the bottle of pinot noir from the corner of the counter with two glasses. “Can we call truce for an hour and talk about things? About us and about what happened that night?”

“That’s a lot to unpack in an hour.” You take the glass he gives you and take a long swig from it. “What do you wanna talk about more?”

Bucky sets the bottle on the coffee table and takes his original spot on the sofa. He swallows loudly and strokes the stem of his glass between his thumb and index finger. “I take full responsibility for what happened.” You cringe, the images flashing in your mind. “I-I hope I didn’t give you any sense of false hope that anything is gonna happen between us.“

“Don’t do that,” You scoff. “Don’t fucking flatter yourself while you belittle me. Make it sound like I’m some pathetic little thing, still hopelessly in love with you.” His eyes remain on you as you chug the rest of the wine in your glass. “And we share the blame for what happened. It’s not like you stuck your dick inside of me without consent.”

You refill your glass and the two of you sit in silence for a minute.

“So, where do we go from here?” Bucky asks softly.

“I was doing just fine ignoring your existence. I don’t mind going back to that.”

“We can’t even try to be-“

“I know you are not about to say the word ‘friends’.” An amused grin spreads across your face. “No. No, we can’t. You dumped me, you don’t get to have your cake and eat it, too. We’ll be civil for the sake of the job. For the sake of the team, but that’s it.”

Bucky knows better than to push your boundaries. He lowers his gaze and nods his head.

You look at him from the corner of your eye, but he stays unmoving. He twiddles his thumbs and you finish the contents in your glass before setting it beside the bottle. “Well,” You sigh and stand to your feet. “Thanks for the wine.”

When you reach the door, you hear him speak, “Do you regret it?”

The memories hit you like a freight train.

His hands in your hair. Mouth kissing over every inch of your body. Feeling him inside of you and facing the overwhelming sensation that you belong there still.

You shake your head, hoping the action will erase the images from your mind like an etch-a-sketch. “It’s not that cut and dry.” You keep your hand on the doorknob, but turn to face him. “It was a mistake, but I don’t regret it. Things are complicated now because I was selfish. Just know - I did it for me. Not for you. And it’ll never happen again.” You mutter loud enough to hear before shutting the door behind you.

~ ~

_Oh, how naive you were._

Miami, Florida in the middle of August.

It wasn’t an official mission. It was kept under wraps, classified knowledge only. If Everrett Ross knew what you were doing, he’d have a hissy fit, no doubt snitch to his father and have the whole case shut down. Not to mention the backlash you would face.

The drug cartels down south were thriving more than ever. Copious amounts of cocaine and LSD were being shipped back and forth the states and Cuba, along with military grade weapons.

_“Who is this guy? Pablo Escobar reincarnated?” Bucky sneered._

_Sam chuckled and nudged his arm, “Yeah, and he watched Narcos on Netflix and didn’t appreciate the way he was depicted. Now he’s back for revenge.”_

_“Can we take this seriously for two seconds, please? The faster we make a plan, the faster we can execute it and come back home.” You focus on the map in front of you, tracking a suspected cargo ship on route to South Beach._

_Sam tilts his head. “Fury’s giving us a month. Between you, me, Buck and Natasha, we’ll have the case closed in two weeks tops. You of all people don’t wanna stay and party?”_

_You sit back in your chair and look up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You have no idea what season it is, do you?”_

_“…Summer?” Bucky says dully, stating the obvious._

The power is shot. Rain comes down like violent pellets on the roof of the condo where the four of you temporarily reside. The wind howls as it blows at 110 mph. The air inside is suffocating and humid. Tensions are high.

“Do you think Thor has any kind of control over this kind of weather?” Natasha asks, watching the massacre of downtown Miami from the window.

“Don’t think you could get him down here to try.” Bucky replies, lighting candles around the living room.

Sam sulks in an armchair, holding a bag of frozen peas to his left eye.

“Stop glaring at me.” You mutter without looking up from the outdated magazine you’re thumbing through.

“You scratched me in the eye!”

“It was a graze, don’t be a baby.” Your tone was too calm, which pissed him off more. “And you deserved it, we wouldn’t be stuck here if it weren’t for you.”

“So you try to claw my eye out?!”

“Birds are natural prey to cats, Sam, you should know not to provoke them.” The smirk is apparent in Natasha’s voice though you aren’t looking at her.

Sam huffs and looks at Bucky, who’s mixing drinks in the kitchen. “Would you back me up, man?”

“Not a chance.” He shakes his head. “You lied to Fury and said we were still working on the case, so he didn’t send the jet to come get us. I held her back the best I could when she pounced on you the first time.” Bucky points to you with a bottle of rum. “But I won’t stop her again if you keep complaining.”

He locks eyes with you and you have to resist the grin that tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Whatcha making?”

“Hurricanes.” Bucky chimes with a smile. The three of you groan and roll your eyes. “What? Too soon?”

~

It’s two in the morning.

The worst of the storm has passed, but rain continues to patter against the windows. You stand by the glass doors in your underwear and a t-shirt - the lack of air conditioning making it unbearable to wear anything more.

Sam and Natasha crashed two hours ago, the alcohol having worn them out along with the excitement of the storm.

Lightning strikes and thunder claps loudly, startling you and making you jump. You turn away from the window and run into Bucky’s massive form. Your heart pounds against your chest and in your ears. Your throat feels tight, restricting airflow.

“Hey, hey calm down. It’s just me.” Bucky says softly. You don’t meet his gaze and your bottom lip trembles. He leans down a little and tilts your head up, making you look at him. His hands rest on each side of your neck and his thumbs gently caress your jaw. “It’s okay. You’re okay, I promise. Come here.”

You let him pull you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head. Your hands bunch up his shirt in the back and you release a sob into his chest. The anxiety you kept at bay all afternoon had caught up to you. Bucky holds you thought it, shushing you softly and petting your hair.

“You’re safe.” He mumbles against your head. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

His promise strikes a chord. A nerve.

It makes you draw back, wrap your arms around yourself to serve as a barrier. “Don’t… You can’t just…” Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away. “Goddamn it, James.”

Bucky’s breath comes out in short huffs though his nose. “You don’t always have to be so strong, you know. It’s okay to be vulnerable-“

“Not around you.” You whisper and shake your head. “Anybody else but you.”

His lips form a thin line and his jaw clenches. He sighs heavily and nods, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine. I get it. But right now, I’m all you got. Why don’t we just,” He moves toward the couch and gestures to it. “Sit and talk. Until you calm down.”

You hate that he remembers intimate details about you. Like how bad weather gives you anxiety attacks and that you can’t sleep while it’s storming outside.

But you oblige, knowing you’ll have a harder time calming down if you’re left alone, and slowly sink into the cushions on the opposite side of the sofa.

Another hour passes. Bucky sits on the floor, his back against the couch with you perched behind him. You’ve been playing with his hair, giving him French braided pigtails and other various styles. He’s in heaven. Couldn’t be more content as hushed conversation flows.

He hums when your fingers comb through his waves. Finally, you settle on a half up bun. Tendrils frame his face, softening his features. You have to focus on not staring for too long.

“Can I ask you something I’ve always wondered?”

“Depends on what it is.” You scoot over to give him room when he pushes himself up to sit beside you.

“Where did “Lynx” come from? Why’d you choose that name?”

“Are you telling me that you chose “The Winter Soldier”?” Your soft laugh makes him smile. “None of us choose our names. Tony gave it to me. Said that with all the times I should have died in battle and didn’t - that I have to have nine lives or something. Black Panther and Black Cat were already taken. Can’t go by “Catwoman”, that’s copyright infringement.”

Bucky nods and chuckles. “Guess you got a point.” After a moment, he says your name. You look up at him, watching the candlelight flicker over his face. His tongue wets his lips and he catches you staring. “Lynx,” The name rolls over his tongue like it’s the first time he’s said it. “It suits you.”

You honestly don’t know who made a move first.

It’s as if you had blacked out and when you came back to reality, you were in his lap with your hands in his hair and his mouth meshing against your own.

He tastes like mint and you feel intoxicated from the little bit of rum that remained on his lips. Head spinning from the heat of his touch on your bare skin beneath your shirt while your mouth latches on to the side of his neck and your hips grind against his.

A low groan escapes the back of his throat and you cover his mouth with your hand. “Shh!” You scold.

He looks up at you with wide eyes and you can feel his mouth curve into a smile underneath your palm. It makes you lose your reserve. You laugh quietly, removing your hand from his face and kissing him softly.

Bucky lifts his hips enough for you to push his sweatpants down mid thigh. He moves your panties to the side and you sink down his length until you’re filled to the hilt.

He swallows thickly and holds you in place, thumbs digging into the place where your hips meet your thighs, fingers splayed over the curve of your ass. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth hangs open. He takes the moment to try to memorize the way you feel around him.

“James,” You whisper.

His eyes flutter open slowly. He loosens his grip on you and pulls you close, nodding his head and giving you permission to move.

You keep your movements low at first, enjoying the feeling of his heft inside of you. Bucky never tears his eyes away from you. They burn holes into your being, scorching your flesh and trying to expose your vulnerability.

You have to look away.

You close your eyes and try to focus on the gratifying rush that’s yet to come. The chase begins. One hand holds on to the back of the couch for support while the other grips the muscle of Bucky’s shoulder. He thrusts upward while you roll your hips against his.

His cock throbs under the tight clench of your walls. Both of you are close and you’re just waiting for the coil to snap under the pressure of pleasure.

Bucky leans up and ghosts his lips over the column of your throat, noses over your jawline and sinks his teeth just below where the joint meets your neck.

“Fuck,” You whimper, the cry muted to everyone besides Bucky from the loud clap of thunder outside.Your legs tighten around his torso and you bury your face in his neck as your body convulses.

His hand makes a fist in your hair and he keeps you close as his thrusts falter and he spills inside of you.

You both sit there, wrapped up in each other, sweaty and disheveled, out of breath.

When you pull away, you’re faced with what you’ve done. The promise you had made to yourself lay in broken pieces on the floor. Did you really have so little self control?

Bucky’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Shower?”

“Jesus,” You mumble, rolling your eyes as you slide off of his lap and make small strides for the bathroom.

~ ~

How you managed to make a career out of being a spy is beyond you at this point.

Four days passed since the Miami mission and you were a wreck. You could lie about any and everything under the sun until you’re blue in the face. But you’re an open book when it comes to your personal life. Always have your cards laid out on the table so that people know what they’re getting into while in your company.

Now, you have a secret, so good and juicy and dirty that you have to bury it deep down inside of you until it suffocates and dies. It’s like parasite - eating away at your insides and making you ill. Making you act unlike yourself.

Natasha’s highly suspicious. She knows something’s up because of course she does. She’s too observant not to realize something is off about you.

You sit at the kitchen table, hunched over with your hand holding your head up. Your leg bounces underneath the surface and you push the Lucky Charms in your bowl around with your spoon, watching the milk turn pastel green.

“M’gonna miss you living here. Really, I am. But I’m not gonna miss the stares I get from the cashier at the grocery store when I buy your kid cereal.” Natasha teases.

“It’s better than your old lady cereal, Ms. Raisin Bran.” You snap.

She snorts.

She smirks and leans forward. “Are you gonna spill whatever you’ve been keeping from me willingly, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?”

You _could_ take her. You know all her moves just as she knows yours. But truth be told, you don’t have the energy to fight her.

“Nat, do you really think I wouldn’t come clean if I could? I’m dying to talk to someone about it. But it’s not just my secret to tell.” You move from the breakfast nook and throw yourself on the living room sofa.

That piqued her interest.

Natasha turns in her seat to face your direction. “Look, I know you, and if you keep whatever it is in, it’s only a matter of time before it spontaneously combusts out of you. In the middle of a briefing. During a mission. While you’re getting a pap smear done by your hot gynecologist…”

“You think Dr. Novak is hot?”

“You don’t?” She shakes her head. “Not the point. Just tell me.” She whines.

You groan and roll onto your stomach, smooshing your face into the nearest decorative pillow. When Natasha hears your muffled speech, she gets up from her chair and walks closer to hear you better, to no avail.

“…what?”

You groan louder this time and push yourself up to sit upright. “I slept with Bucky, okay? Are you happy now?”

Natasha’s jaw drops and she falls into the seat of the armchair adjacent to the couch. You can see the gears turning in her head as she works out which one of the many questions she has to ask first. “W-When did this happen?”

“The first time was time was on the Spain trip last month. Then again in Florida.”

The confession has her eyes bulging. “Twice? Hold on, in Florida? As in, not even a week ago? And with Sam and I around?”

“It’s not like we planned it.” You defend.

She eyes you for a moment, hesitant to ask the question in the front of her mind. “Are you guys getting back together?”

“What? No. God, no. It was just breakup sex.”

“The first time was breakup sex.” Natasha clarifies. “You just get the one chance. What do you call the second time?”

You narrow your eyes and scoff. “What are you, the breakup sex police? You gonna make me pay a fine?”

She shrugs. “If you do it again, maybe I will. You’re clearly not over him. This isn’t good for you.” She’s speaking from a place of concern. You know she has your best interest at heart, but it still doesn’t feel great being told that your shitty actions have consequences, even if you think you already know that.

“Have you slept with anyone else since the breakup?” You don’t meet Natasha’s gaze as you shake your head and hug the pillow to your chest. “Well, the best way to get over someone…”

“Is to get under someone else. I know, but who? I don’t hook up with randoms.”

“We work on a team primarily made up of men, take your pick.” She retorts, as if it’s the obvious solution.

You throw the pillow at her head, but she deflects it. “Fuck someone _else_ on the team? Make things even more complicated? Are you kidding?”

“It doesn’t _have_ to complicate things. Make an agreement, nothing more than a one night stand.”

“Spoken like you haven’t had sex complicate your life. That must be nice, what’s it like?” You tilt your head and sport a sarcastic smile.

“I got it. We’ll throw a party.” She declares, completely ignoring your snarky remark. “A housewarming party. You finish moving into your new place tomorrow and by Saturday, everything will be set. I’ll take care of the invites and everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

You sigh heavily, sinking further into the cushions and letting your head rest against the back of the couch. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”

A wide smile spreads across Natasha’s face and she shakes her head. “Not a chance.”

~ ~

9 o’clock Saturday night.

The new apartment was now furnished and decorated to your liking. Peter showed up early to help you and Natasha set up for the party and dubbed himself DJ for the evening.

As the night went on and more guests arrived, you felt Natasha’s eyes peering at you from across the room. You try to focus on your conversation with Wanda and Sam while discreetly gesturing for her to knock it off. If her plan was going to be at all successful, you couldn’t think about think about the task at hand, let alone be pressured into someone’s pants.

“This place looks fantastic.” Wanda says with a gaping smile. “I know you’ve been looking since-“ Sam nudges her in the arm and clears his throat. “F-For a long time.” She corrects herself.

You laugh softly and give her elbow a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. Yeah, it has been a long time. Finally got lucky.”

“Speaking of getting lucky…” Natasha sing songs, making your eyes roll. “We just gotta find someone to help you break this place in.”

“Finally putting yourself back on the market?” Sam asks, seemingly excited for you.

“Not exactly,” You choke on an awkward laugh. “Just looking for a quick hit. Something to fill the urge.”

He huffs and raises a brow. “You talkin’ about dick or drugs?”

“Same thing in the long run, isn’t it?” You shrug, finishing off your drink. “S’cuse me. I need a refill.”

Peter eyes you from the end of the island, brows raised to his hairline when you don’t bother measuring the amount of vodka you pour into your glass. “You good?” He questions with a soft chuckle.

You huff and tilt your head. “Does it show that I’m a little less than stellar?”

“Wanna talk about it?” He offers.

Before you could give an answer, the doorbell buzzes. “I got it.” Sam announces, being the closest to the door. His eyes widen and he takes a tentative step to the side to allow the guest through the threshold.

Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open for split second before you compose yourself. “Rain check, Pete.” You brush his shoulder as you move behind him to get to Natasha across the room. “I kinda thought it went without saying not to invite the guy I apparently can’t help but sleep with to the party, you insisted I have, to find someone new to sleep with.” You pull her into view of Bucky talking to Sam. “But evidently, I was wrong.”

Natasha looks legitimately confused until the realization hits her. “Oh my god. When I sent out the mass email I forgot to take his name off the contact list.” She palms her forehead. “Do you want me to kick him out?”

You look over at your ex, eyeing him up and down before giving a one shouldered shrug. “Actually, no. Him being here adds to the incentive to the mission.”

“Oh, it’s a mission now?” She smirks.

“Yeah,” You face her as you walk backwards in Bucky’s direction. “Mission “Get Dicked Down”.”

Natasha snickers when you wink playfully, signifying that your mood did a full 180 from when the party began. Sam steps to the side, probably to get out of the potential line of fire between you and the brunette.

“Happy housewarming.” Bucky grins, pulling a white box out from behind his back with ‘Magnolia Bakery’ written on the top. “Got your favorite cupcakes.”

You take the box and purse your lips. “Is this a peace offering?”

Bucky kinks a brow and tilts his head. “Are we at war?”

“I don’t know.” You nod him over to the island and grab a glass to make him a drink. “But the night is young.”

He watches you move around the small kitchen, gathering and pouring the various ingredients into the glass tumbler. The olive green color of the maxi dress you wear compliments your skin tone and the fabric hugs your curves. Your perfume fills his senses and he licks over the smirk that spreads across his face.

“So, is that the reason for this shindig? That you’re asking for it?” Bucky inquires.

“Asking for what?” You feign innocence, popping a maraschino cherry into your mouth and sliding the drink over to Bucky.

He chuckles and takes a sip. “To get fucked.” He clarifies. “You look too good for this to be a casual gathering. I recognize that look in your eyes and I know for a fact that you only put on that particular scent when you’re looking to get railed.”

His voice is smug, but it doesn’t match his hard expression when he states his confession. Even if it’s just a little, it pains him that the memory stayed wedged in the back of his mind.

And that brings you joy.

“Wish you could forget it, don’t you?” You grin. “The small, seemingly insignificant details. The ones that creep up out of nowhere and kick you right in the chest. For you, it’s my perfume. For me, it’s your favorite fucking drink.” You laugh dryly, nodding to the Manhattan in his hand. “So to answer your question, yes. That’s the exact reason for this shindig. We need to learn to keep our hands off each other. I never got the luxury of being intimate with someone else after you broke my heart. But you can’t relate. You moved on two weeks later.” You push off from the counter and leave him, anger suddenly boiling in your blood.

Just as you pass in front of the door, the bell chimes. You look over at Natasha, silently asking, ‘any more surprises?’. But she just shrugs in response.

When you open the door, a broad smile stretches across your face. “Well, as I live and breathe, Steve Rogers.” Steve grins and runs a hand through his hair bashfully. “Its been two years and all it took to get you back from Wakanda was for me to throw a party?”

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you tightly, his beard grazing the crook of your neck and making you shiver. “This isn’t just any party. You’ve got your own place now, a monumental step closer to getting over my dumbass best friend.”

Bucky clears his throat, making you laugh. “Your dumbass best friend is here, by the way.” Steve’s brows furrow, but you wave him off. “Accidental invite. Nat’s to blame.”

“Rogers!” Sam hollers, making his way over.

“I think you stole the thunder of my housewarming.” You tease.

Steve chuckles and scratches his jaw. “I think I did.” He leans in to press a gentle kiss to the side of your head. “Start thinking of how I can make it up to you. I’ll come find you after I catch up with the others.”

“You better.” You wink, shoving him in Sam’s direction.

~ ~

“Our friends are pigs.” Steve announces, throwing paper plates and napkins into a large black garbage bag.

The rest of the group had cleared out, only leaving the two of you, and you decided that the way he could make up for shifting everyone’s attention on himself was to help clean up the aftermath. He graciously agreed with no argument.

Although the night ended and you failed your mission, you couldn’t declare the party unsuccessful. You scored a bunch of gifts from your friends and got to call Bucky out on his bullshit. Little victories, but victories nonetheless.

“Wanna take a break and split a cupcake with me?” You dry your hands on the dish towel hanging over your shoulder before reaching for the cardboard box where you stashed it, in the cabinet above the sink.

“Did you take up baking while I was gone?” Steve grins, scooping some of the cream cheese frosting from his half of the red velvet cupcake onto his finger and sucking it off.

“Absolutely not.” You snort, shaking your head. “James brought them from the shop up the street.”

Steve has to cover his mouth so to not spew crumbs as he laughs heartily. “‘James’? I know he’s pissed that you call him that.” You nod and take a bite of the dessert. “How have things been with you guys?”

“We’re exes that not only work together, but have the same friends.” You sigh and take a seat on a barstool. “Deciding to date him was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Yeah, I could’ve told you that.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin and tosses it to the trash bag he left on the floor.

You scoff and kick his leg. “Then you’re the one to blame for this mess I’m in. Thanks, Steven.” You close the takeout box and move to put it in the refrigerator.

“Oh no,” He chuckles. “Don’t give me the full name treatment, too. I beg you.”

A soft smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you lean the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Soft music thrums through the speaker set on the coffee table in the living room to fill the silence. As you look at Steve, you can’t help but think about Natasha’s whispered instructions, “ _Bang Steve!_ ” As you urged her out the door.

Steve catches you staring at him. He grins and scratches the back of his neck. “Do I look as rough as I feel or something? It was a long flight.”

“Quite the contrary. You’ve never looked better, as far as I’m concerned.” The skin above his beard turns a soft shade of pink. You step closer, leaning on your arms on the marble island counter top. “Do you wanna know the real intention behind tonight’s soiree?”

Steve cocks a brow and pulls up a chair. “Enlighten me.”

You sigh and a genuine laugh escapes your throat at the ridiculousness of it all. “It was Natasha’s idea-”

“It always is.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“This was all just a ploy to find me someone new to have sex with so I could stop falling back into Bucky’s arms. Or, his lap, more accurately.”

“You two have… Since the break up?”

“Yeah.”

“How many-“

“Twice.”

“Damn.” Steve was at a loss for words more than the one he uttered. “And I just waltzed in and stole the limelight from you.” He looks dejected.

“I’ll admit, your arrival didn’t make it easy for me to find a suitor, but I can’t entirely blame you. I don’t know, I guess my heart wasn’t in it.”

You move around him, walking toward the living room, but he grabs your hand and swivels in his seat. His eyes are unyielding. It makes your knees buckle.

“What about me?”

The question was simple. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d somehow stepped into the Twilight Zone.

“Steve, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” He grins, pulling you closer to stand between his legs. “It’s the least I could do.”

You stutter, stumble on your words in disbelief that you’re hearing him correctly. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. What about Bucky?” You swallow thickly and divert your gaze. “I can’t be the thing to come between you two.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” His voice is soft. He brings his hand to your cheek, turning your head to face him again. “I love Bucky. But he doesn’t make it easy to love him.” His thumb traces the curve of your bottom lip. “You know that more than I do.” Your eyes flutter closed when he pulls you closer, letting his forehead rest against yours. Your hands lay on his shoulders and you feel yourself giving into him. “If this is something that keeps you from going back to him, then let me help.”

Your lips ghost over his and he grips your waist with his free hand. “And this doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s just sex?”

“Just sex.” He repeats, nodding his head, breath fanning over your face.

_Just sex_. As if there were such a thing as _just sex_.

But your will to care is gone.

Steve presses his lips against yours and you’re lost in how soft and plump they feel. Your fingertips brush along the contrasting coarseness of his beard. He hikes your dress skirt up and pulls you to sit in his lap.

With each passing second, your actions grow hastier. Needier. Steve has your hair in his fist at the back of your neck, mouth hot on your neck while you grind yourself against his denim constricted hard on. He grunts, kissing you hard and slipping his fingers into the side of your panties, ripping them off of your body.

No words are spoken. The room echoes with soft music and the sound of pleasured moans as Steve places you on the edge of the counter. His tongue tangles with yours and your hands deftly unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his jeans before shoving them down past his hips along with his boxer briefs.

Steve pulls back just a little, just enough to look in your eyes. Both of your chests are heaving and your eyes are lust blown. He’s giving you the chance to push him away. To say that you don’t want this and to send him on his way.

Instead, you wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer. “Fuck me.” You say softly.

He doesn’t need more convincing than that. He enters you and you gasp, his girth making your walls stretch. Your head spins and you have to hold on to him to keep yourself stable.

“I got you.” He whispers, wrapping an arm around you and keeping his thrusts at a timed pace.

He feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It’s Steve. Not only is he your friend, but he’d your former lover’s best companion. Forbidden fruit. It’s exciting. Lines blur more and more the quicker you come up upon your euphoric release.

He’s thick, filling you completely and you know you’ll be sore in the morning. But it’s welcomed. It’s different than what you’ve known. Different than Bucky.

Your cunt throbs around him and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He’s close too, you know it by the way his hips move more erratically. You cum first, gripping the edge of the counter and whimpering as your body shakes. Steve’s right behind you, filling you with his load, only slowing, not stopping his hips from propelling.

When he finally does pull out of you, he kisses you tenderly, letting his hand glide down the side of your neck. “Now that we got that out of our systems…” He sighs. “Round two in the bedroom?”


End file.
